


Lad's Weekend

by nickelsandcoats



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelsandcoats/pseuds/nickelsandcoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John, and Lestrade go camping. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lad's Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> this is dialogue only and my first time writing comedy of any kind.
> 
> For [](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/profile)[**sabrinaphynn**](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/) 's prompt [here](http://nickelsandcoats.livejournal.com/122267.html) at my shuffle meme post.
> 
> For [](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/profile)[**sabrinaphynn**](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/) , who wanted song #42, which was “Hunting the Duck" by Buddy Wasisname and the Other Fellers. You can listen to the song [here.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBNwBvlZejk) The duck interlude is the best part. :)

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Please tell me you packed some food. And don't lie or otherwise evade me when you answer."

"..."

"Sherlock?"

"You said I couldn't lie or evade, so that means silence."

"Oh, my God. You are actually not joking. We are going to be gone for four days and you packed no food and we're out here in the middle of nowhere. Look around, Sherlock. Do you see shops anywhere? No you don't, because we're at a bloody cabin in the middle of the woods! I knew we shouldn’t have let Mycroft’s driver drop us off⎯we could’ve had a bloody car."

"You did say that this was a lad's weekend. Aren't we meant to be fishing? We can eat what we catch. And besides, I did bring that frankly awful beer you and Lestrade like so much."

"Lestrade! Why didn't I think of that? I'll give him a ring and ask him to pick up some food before he gets here."

"Ah, about that."

"About what?"

"I may have taken the idea of a lad's weekend a bit too seriously. I did do some research."

"What fresh hell are you about to unleash on me now?"

"Well, in my research, it said that lads' weekends were supposed to consist of hunting or fishing, building fires, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, mostly in the form of beer, telling lewd jokes and outrageous stories, avoiding showering, and using the woods as a toilet. Since I saw no mention of using mobile phones, I left ours at home."

"Come again?"

"I left our mobiles at home."

"That's what I thought you said. I was hoping I had had a temporary hearing impairment and had misheard you."

“Oh, and one other thing.”

“Now what? Oh, please tell me you didn’t pack the eyeballs in my socks. I like those socks.”

“No, but that would have been a good idea. I’ll keep it mind for next time. No, this is about Lestrade.”

“…”

“He’s, ah, not coming⎯”

“WHAT?”

“until tomorrow. He rang me right before we left⎯you were still packing. He got called into court today, and had to postpone leaving for our trip.”

“So what you’re telling me is that we have no mobiles, no food, and no way of getting food until tomorrow afternoon.”

“That would be a precise summary, yes. Although I would point out the fishing rods, bait, and river nearby. We could fish and get dinner. And….I think there is some sort of snack in my bag⎯Mrs. Hudson gave it to me before we left.”

“Have you ever been fishing before?”

“No.”

“Then you have no idea how difficult it is to actually catch a fish. Nor is there any guarantee of there being fish in this river.”

“Statistically speaking, there is a far higher chance of there being fish in the river than not. And I have been studying the proper art of fishing. Apparently, it’s all in the bait, the lure, and the choice of fishing spot. I have, of course, procured the best lures and bait for our trip.”

“Fine. Let’s go. I’d like to try to catch something so we can eat before midnight⎯it’s already gone half three.”

*

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, John. You are merely upset that I caught the fish and you didn’t.”

“Fine. I don’t hate you, you arrogant wanker. But please tell me this cabin has a stove.”

“It does.”

“Does it work?”

“Ah. It appears not.”

“Of course it doesn’t work. Well, you can go get some bloody firewood, and I’ll clean the fish.”

“I’m not getting ‘the bloody firewood,’ as you so eloquently put it. I will clean the fish.”

“Have you ever cleaned a fish before?”

“Have you?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“How long has it been since you’ve dissected anything?”

“I think I would know what bits to cut out, Sherlock. It’s not rocket science.”

*

“I think I still have scales in my hair. And I still smell like fish guts. I can feel them sliming under my nails still.”

“Mmm.”

“Admit it, Sherlock, it was good fish.”

“For not having any seasoning or any side dish other than this ‘trail mix’ from Mrs. Hudson, it was….adequate.”

“Thanks eversomuch for cooking dinner and getting the firewood to cook the fish on, is that what I’m hearing? Oh, no, it’s drowned out by your smugness.”

“Oh, thankseversomuch for forgetting the lube.”

“Oh, shit. I thought you packed it.”

“No, I thought _you_ packed it, John. I made it obvious I hadn’t when I said, ‘John, don’t forget the supplies.’”

“And ‘supplies’ could mean anything! We were packing for a camping trip!”

“…”

“I’m having a beer. Want one?”

“If I say yes, will you faint?”

“No, but I’ll ply you with more until I get you drunk enough to have blackmail on you as revenge for forgetting the lube.”

“Fair enough. I retain perfect control of my faculties at all times, even when intoxicated.”

“Mmmhmm. Cheers.”

*

“How many have you had, Sherlock? Sherlock. Sheeerrrrlock. That’s a nice name. Odd, but nice. Sheeerrrrlock. Say it. Sheeeerrrrrlock.”

“It’s my name, John, I say it all the time.”

“’s not fair. I’ve had four beers and ‘m pissed an’ you’ve ha’ jus’ as many an’ you’re not.”

“I told you, I remain in perfect control of all my faculties at all times.”

“You’re not normal.”

“….”

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean it tha’ way. I wouldn’t change you fer the world.”

“Thank you.”

“John, where are you going?”

“To take a piss and get us another.”

“Ah, thank you, John. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Lookit them stars, Sherlock. Not as many as in Afg…Afghist…”

“Afghanistan.”

“Yeah. There it looked like you could touch them they were so close. You would’ve looked fuckin gorgeous out there under those stars. Wish I could see it, but I don’t want you to get shot at.”

“John.”

“Huh?”

“John, kiss me.”

“Christ, you’re even more gorgeous than I thought.”

“Thank you for that, John.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean tha’, you know wha’ I meant. Quit pouting and let me touch you.”

*

“Oh! Good morning, Lestrade. You’re ah, earlier than we expected.”

“I can see that, Sherlock. And I’ll never be able to unsee it.”

“Would you be so kind as to go buy some food? John is getting peckish.”

“I’d say he’s peckish for more than just food.”

“Yes, well. If you don’t mind.”

“And lube!”

“Yes, John. Lestrade, some lube too, if you please.”

“What am I, your personal shopper?”

“That will be all, thank you. We’re a bit busy.”

“I can see that. One hour. I’ll be back in one hour, and that’s how long you two have to get this outdoorsy open air sex thing out of your systems. My heart can’t take this. When I get back, it’s no sex except in your room with the door shut time.”

“Yes yes, quite. Food, if you please.”

“And lube!”

“And lube, so John can⎯Lestrade?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen him run so fast.”

“Me neither. Was it something I said?”


End file.
